


Term of Endearment

by eccentrick



Series: Tumblr Prompts [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Established Relationship, Sick Fic, Soft Lancelot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 11:18:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13122630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eccentrick/pseuds/eccentrick
Summary: Tumblr request: Hello! For the prompt we talked last night! Well, I have this hc that that Lance sees Lotor’s sweet side he decides to call him a pet name: "Lotty". Lotor hates it cause he thinks it's cute and embarrassing and cute and he gets flustered calls him that way.





	Term of Endearment

**Author's Note:**

> I love writing soft Lancelot. Enjoy!

It is evening in the Castleship, the noise of its collective inhabitants dulling into white noise. Lance is grateful because his head throbs, his throat swollen and sore. Just leave it to him to catch the alien equivalent of the flu. 

And, everyone is too busy to help Lance along; he gets it, really, because he hasn't even told them he is sick, because on what scope would Lance having a mean case of the sniffles compare to saving the universe? Lance is also saving his space family from hearing his pathetic whines. He hardly ever gets sick, so when he does, he complains the entire time. Lance is pretty sure his older sister wanted to suffocate him with his own snotty pillow after one too many sighs that sounded like snores. 

Not one of his shining moments. 

So, Lance is resigned to suffering by his lonesome self. And if he grumbles under his breath about dying alone, no one is victim to them. 

So when he hears the telltale suction sound of his sliding door, Lance winces. His head reminds him that he currently wants to die, shivers wracking his body. He burrows under his covers, his back to the door so whomever is sneaking in thinks he's just sleeping. 

It's silent. He thinks the person has left, turning tail before the door even closes. But, without even a whisper of the air parting, long fingers thread through Lance’s hair, lingering to scrape against his scalp. His toes curl, his body melting into the mattress. He knows exactly who has invades his sickbed, without even bothering to turn around.

“Hey, my Prince,” he says, voice hoarse and scratchy, devoid of its usual flirtiness.

“Lance,” Lotor says curtly, digits now curling around a particularly long lock. The threads of hair part around his hand, relaxing Lance even further.

“Lootoor,” Lance drawls. “Why aren't you doing something Princely right now. Ya know,” he coughs against his will, “Saving the universe one kind deed at a time.” 

Lotor sighs. “I would, but it appears something very important has been missing, so I've come to retrieve it.” 

Lance turns towards Lotor, spreading his arms out wide, beckoning. “Come’re.” 

Lotor makes a burdened expression, but begins to strip his armor off. Once he's down to his underarmor, Lotor slides down next to Lance, his right arm sliding to its home around Lance’s waist. 

“Something ails you,” Lotor sniffs. He's frowning, his thumb reaching between them to stroke under Lance’s eye, where he's sure dark circles are. His brow is furrowed, which tells Lance right away that he's worried. 

Cleaning his throat, Lance says, “Just a space flu, I'm not going to die or anything.” 

“You’d better not. It would offend me. Why don't you use a healing pod instead of being stubborn?”

“Lotty, Lotty,” Lance tsks sweetly. “You can just say you're worried.” 

Lotor’s mouth draws into a tight line, a sure sign he's embarrassed, and doesn't know what to do about it. His skin darkens into a richer shade of purple. Lance smiles snottily. 

Lance feels pretty powerful whenever he calls Lotor by his pet name. Lotor would readily deny any pleasure from the nickname, but Lance knew it is a special part of their relationship. Lotor didn't have the most affectionate childhood, so to him, a nickname derived from fondness is a weakness he reluctantly indulges in. Lance can't be sure how people are still afraid of him, but then again, they don't know him like Lance does. 

“You feel uncharacteristically warm.” 

Lance sighs. “It just means I have a fever. It's something us humans have to deal with when we're sick.” 

“Well,” Lotor replies, glancing at Lance’s dropping eyes. “You should rest.”

“No,” Lance says stubbornly. “You'll take advantage of my unconsciousness to rat me out. The last time one of us got sick, Coran almost cried from worry.” 

Lotor’s fingertips gently press Lance’s eyes shut. “Just sleep.” 

Lance wants to protest, but he's just so tired. Before he slips into a fevered sleep, he whispers Lotor’s coveted nickname, and arms tighten around him in acknowledgement. Lance knew he secretly loved it. 

He falls asleep happily after that.

**Author's Note:**

> *broken record* I take requests on my Voltron tumblr: lo-tor!


End file.
